


fly me to the moon (you’re all i long for)

by lunoiere



Series: one hundred & some more [10]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: 100 Ways to Say I Love You Writing Challenge, 14. “Can I have this dance?”, Breakfast in Bed, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Female MC - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Kissing, Married Couple, Slow Dancing, this fic is a fluff fest and just about nothing else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28192971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunoiere/pseuds/lunoiere
Summary: A guide on how to have the perfect Sunday morning cuddling in bed with your husband, featuring the rain and apple pie.
Relationships: Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: one hundred & some more [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/807261
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	fly me to the moon (you’re all i long for)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shybright](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shybright/gifts).



> curiously enough i write this on the only day without rain this week. and beware: this is just me waxing poetics about satan for several hundred words. youve been warned
> 
> written for Obey Me Secret Santa gift exchange 2020 and my giftee, syi! i hope you enjoy this story ♡
> 
> the title is from frank sinatra's song, also used in the fic briefly, so i recommended listening to it while reading~

Waking up cocooned in warmth, sturdy arms circling her waist, and the soft breathing of another’s tickling the back of her neck or in her hair would never stop being a treasured occurrence no matter how many times it had happened.

It would never lose its novelty and endearing qualities, its elements of intrigue and allure. It would never stop filling her chest with comfort whether it was only their second year of marriage or their thousandth. Arin knew, she believed it deep within her soul, that this moment—this happenstance of greeting the morning the sweetest way out there, would always be something she was grateful for, something she cherished no matter how small it seemed in the greater scheme of things after so long of being together with the love of her life. It would always be something she kept close to her heart, especially when she turned around slowly and was greeted by Satan’s peaceful resting face not even an inch from her own.

There was always something magnetic about her husband’s face. She couldn’t look and not take some time to just stare. Arin was aware of that particular heart-stopping fact ever since the first time she laid her eyes on his very being and her lungs seemed to malfunction because she was that stunned. Hell, every being on earth and beyond knew, she would bet on it, had they ever gotten the honor of actually meeting the demon in their lifetime. As such, it went without saying how every inch and curve of his face was carved close to perfection. All the demon brothers seemed to be so, former angels and all, but something about Satan put him above all else when it came to beauty in Arin’s very biased and utterly whipped opinion.

Could it be the golden locks falling ever so softly around his face like the world’s most magnificent frame? Or maybe it was the twinkling blue-green, the color of clear lakes and soothing meadows under bright skies, and the deep gaze he graced upon her every time their eyes met? Perhaps it could be the slope of his mouth turning sideways and making her cheeks burn, or it could have been everything combined and some more?

But, like this; asleep, eyes closed, unaware, peaceful—this was her most favorite of her husband’s looks. That said a lot, considering every single look of his was a masterpiece.

That day, Arin took the time to bask in the view, clear and uninterrupted, as well as the feeling of early morning haze as her body slowly gained its wakefulness. There was no need to rush, what with it being a Sunday. It must have also been still such an ungodly hour of the day, if the dead quiet and definite darkness still enveloping their bedroom were anything to go by. So, she lazily snuggled closer then breathed in once, twice. Warmth, warmth, and even more warmth. In his sleep, Satan’s long eyelashes flutter like butterfly wings. Arin had to bite down a smile threatening to split her face with its intensity witnessing it.

Every single time, every passing day, without fail, Arin couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the knowledge that she was the only person that was able to do this. The only one lucky enough to wake up in Satan’s hold, engulfed in his protective heat warding everything evil.

The only one to call him hers, the only one with matching gold bands.

_ “You are mine until the end of time,” _ she remembered him whispering to the high heavens, to the crown of her head as a part of his wedding vows an eternity ago,  _ “and I am yours for as long as you’ll have me.” _

Oh, how lucky she was indeed.

It took months and grand promises uttered into skin by Satan’s lips for Arin to finally believe the surreal dream that Satan married her. Out of so many others, it was her.

_ “You and you alone,” _ he wouldn’t let her forget.

Oh, how could she, after all those?

With a small quirk of her lips she finally allowed herself to have from that remembrance, Arin gently moved to a sitting position. Her husband slept quite deeply most times, rarely aroused by small movements, but Arin liked to be careful and loving in everything she did related to him. When she buried her fingers in his hair, she did it gently and full of love, too. And, for some time, that was all she did—caressing her sleeping husband’s hair to her heart’s content .

Meanwhile, outside, the world took its sweet time fully rousing from slumber. It also seemed like there would be no sunshine streaming from the windows or birds’ song in the air anytime soon. Instead, cumulonimbus took reign of the sky and with it came the hurried descent of heavy droplets of rain. A prelude of the perfect weather for staying in and cuddles. Arin was just glad they had finished laundry and house cleaning yesterday. Maybe a movie or two could be arranged to their schedule of the day.

But first, breakfast and hot beverages.

Leaving bed, or particularly the part where she had to detach herself from her husband, took all of Arin’s willpower before she finally found herself standing in the kitchen. She was no chef, quite the pitiful cook in fact, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t do her best for a romantic breakfast in bed. They had planned to go outside that day, but since the weather didn’t allow it, she thought bringing the date inside would be a good alternative.

For the food, Arin had perfected the art of baking the best apple pie known to mankind after many trials and errors, and much thanks to the help of the sixth-born’s black hole stomach and impossible-to-please tastes. It might not be the best breakfast menu, but she knew her husband’s favorites. She had it made exactly the way her husband enjoyed it, too.

An hour or so later, the pie would be ready. Next was the presentation. She took out the four-legged serving tray rarely used from the back of the kitchen drawer. A flowery placemat was put on top of it, arranged neatly with cloth napkins and the plate of pies right in the middle.

She had just finished pouring two cups of jasmine tea when familiar warmth engulfed her back, followed by a low humming sound.

“What are you doing?” asked a dear voice to the top of her hair. It was a bit muffled, but their proximity meant Arin could decipher the words easily enough.

“Pampering you,” she said in reply before turning around to stand on her tip-toe, pecking Satan’s lips sweetly. “Good morning to you, handsome. I was just going to serve you breakfast in bed.”

Her husband reciprocated by placing a sleepy kiss on her forehead. “Should I go back to bed, then? It was cold without you.”

The downpour outside didn’t seem like it would let up anytime soon. Chuckling softly, she shooed Satan away. “Yes, I’m almost done here. You will survive five more minutes in bed without me, you big baby.”

The man hugged her close one last time, as if bracing himself for the long minutes in a rain-cold bed, before he finally stepped back and away to their bedroom. It was an endearing gesture. It gave her the energy boost in her resolve to finish her work in the kitchen as fast as humanly possible.

When she came into the room, the curtained windows had been left open. She could see the expanse of blackened clouds through the water-stained glass. But her focus was immediately seized by the figure in the bed. Her husband had burrowed himself deep within the blankets once again, seemingly reluctant to part ways from the sleeping position. His eyes were wide open, though, a bright splash of color in the monochrome-filled landscape, as was the golden halo of his hair.

Arin was tempted to join him again. Oh so very tempted.

She put down the tray by the feet of the bed before crawling to where Satan was. Looming over him, she told him, “I made you apple pie.”

“I know. It smells delicious,” said the man below her, not budging an inch. In fact, the deep gaze she gave her turned into a mischievous twinkle as he continued with, “Give me my morning kisses first.”

Arin loved this man so much it was quite unreal.

“You said you are going to pamper me,” he added again when Arin just kept on staring at him, stars in her eyes.

And, she did say that, didn’t she?

Leaning down slowly, she placed a kiss that felt more like a sigh in between his brows. She then moved just as slow, just as soft, just as sacred to the tip of his nose, then to the apple of his cheeks. Finally, she kissed the corner of his lips.

Satan didn’t let her go after that, tugging her down even more for an actual kiss that made her curled her toes in delight.

It took them some time before they finally emerged to have breakfast. Miraculously, the tea was still warm. Together they finished the pie, feeding each other and giggling like a pair of fools drunk in love that they were. It was the perfect morning, the perfect start of the day, as they talked about nothing, everything, and all those in between.

“Did you remember,” her husband inquired, “the only other times you brought me breakfast in bed?”

Arin blinked a few times, her mind and body fuzzy with affection as she leaned heavily on Satan’s chest, before the memory came upon her. The smile was clear in her response. “Our honeymoon, right?”

“Yes. And do you remember the first thing you fed me in our wedding even though we had cut the gigantic cake Barbatos ordered?”

This time, she couldn’t contain the merry chuckle from escaping her lips. “It was apple pie,” she replied.

Fondly, he nodded. “Apple pie.”

That felt both like a lifetime ago and only just yesterday.

Arin was replaying the memory of the most joyous day of her life when she heard it. in between the cacophony of pitter-patter sounds from the outside that circled about the room like a ghostly ballerina, Satan was humming a low tone she recognized with familiar warmth. It was the song they used for their first dance after the wedding ceremony, their first dance as newlyweds.

_ “....In other words, please be true,” _ he sang to her ears, and hers only.  _ “In other words, I love you.” _

He didn’t give her the time to get out of the blissful haze, to recuperate and get her heart to stop beating as if it wanted to burst from her chest, before he stood up and padded to a corner of the room. Not long after, a melodic sound played by the vinyl record they got from Belphegor accompanied the rain song in making the world that day even more surreal.

Then, suddenly, not even a heartbeat later; her husband was there, standing in front of her with an outstretched hand and a smile made out of dreams.

“Can I have this dance?” he asked, as if she could ever say no.

“Of course,” she replied, as if he would bring her to the moon and never back.

But maybe, he did. From how he made her whole being light up and bloomed in happiness and love as they twirl and twirl and twirl, it felt like no other place on earth but in each other’s arms.

_ “... _ _ In other words, baby, kiss me.” _

When he dipped her low in a gentle arc, they sealed the dance with a kiss that promised eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> i honestly have no idea how to end this *muffled screaming* but i guess there's a reason why i used the ‘fluff without plot’ tag lol and!!! the best part of writing this fic is the research i did for the wedding dance even tho i end up not even making a longer part of it in the fic but please please [go watch this its so sweet and its the dance i imagined they did here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tNV3Arr7ajM&list=LL&index=9) aaaa 
> 
> [tumblr](http://lunoiere.tumblr.com/) & [twitter](https://twitter.com/lunoiere). thank you for reading and feedback is appreciated ♡


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